Kindred Spirits
by Hustler One
Summary: In the aftermath of the Alpha 3 Tournament, a lone warrior stands to face the Shadowloo Lord, after defeating the twin dolls known as Juni and Juli. But the warrior sees something else in one of the dolls... what could it be? My first street figher fic! r
1. Default Chapter

Kindred Spirits  
by hustler one  
  
As it had for countless millenia, since the very beginning of time itself, the clouds which flew restlessly in the skies let their rain pour down towards the Earth's surface. The rain fell softly, not a downpour, as steadily the water fed plants and trees and grass with the nourishment they needed to survive, as well as giving the humans who populated the planet the vital liquid they needed to sustain life.   
  
Now they rained upon the country of Japan, on a small patch of flat land, where the grass grew tall and unhindered. Tall, majestic trees grew up from the fertile soil, along with the numerous bushes and shrubs and other foiliage native to the region. In a wide clearing was the setting of certain events, where a human stood, unmoving, facing two others. Not so far away an asphalt road stretched, joining at some point to another that lead to the metropolis of Tokyo. It was not so far from where the standing human made his home, alone, far away from civilization, in a simple wooden hut. Now the human stood in this clearing, the rain falling down mercilessly on his frame. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, and every now and then the flash of lightning illuminated the human for several seconds, before falling away and leaving the human shrouded in darkness, and alone with the rain.  
  
He could easily be mistaken for another street fighter, like and unlike those of his age. His clothing, at least, was simple: a white karate gi, a black belt tied tightly about his waist, red fighting gloves tied to the fists which meant so much to him, and saved his life more times than he, or anyone else could count. His entire body was well built and muscled, from head to toe, his shoulders broad, his frame short height-wise but none the less intimidating. Training dominated his life, and his body backed up this fact.   
  
But, perhaps most intruiging; the simple white headband tied tightly about his head, it's two, long ends flapping loosely around his figure, caught in the wind that accompanied the harsh rain. A warrior, this man looked like. A true warrior.   
  
He was indeed a warrior. So young, so inexperienced, he seemed on the outside. What could a mere twenty year old with a headband do? Such were the thoughts of many a rival warrior, before they fell in defeat to his fists. Twenty years, filled with a single, all consuming purpose: to become the greatest warrior of all time. And indeed, many considered him that ultimate warrior. For in that short of a time, the warrior had seen more violence, destruction, death than many see in their entire lives. But did that mean he was the ultimate warrior, he asked himself? No. And so while many considered him to be that ultimate warrior, he himself did not.   
  
And so he embarked on a seemingly unending quest; to become the greatest warrior he believed himself capable of but not being, yet.   
  
For twenty years this quest dominated his life, a single all consuming goal. There was little for friendship, no time to live a normal life. No time for the various human pleasures and pains associated with childhood, adolescense, and now early adulthood. Companionship with the warrior belonged only to those worthy enough to have gained his respect through their fighting skills, and even then contact was limited to sparring or conversation about fightning techniques. Female companionship was almost out of the question. Only one thing dominated his life, his thoughts, his very soul; his quest. His journey. His fighting skills, and improving on them. Street Fighting was all that meant anything to him. Nothing else mattered.  
  
For a long time, too long a time, it seemed that maybe he had reached his prime, had improved on his skills to the absolute limit. No challenger had walked away from a bout with the warrior victorious. He was undefeated.   
  
Yes, he had fought many. Men and women who themselves could crush rocks with their bare hands or cut mighty trees down with a single kick to the tree trunk. And yet, he had yet to meet the one who could best him in single combat.  
  
Varied and of all shapes and sizes, men and women, all of them, their fighting styles as different from one another as the shapes of snowflakes on a winter's morn. And he defeated them all to reach where he stood today, in this tournament known to all as the third Street Fighter Alpha Tournament.  
  
His first opponent was the Japanese champion Sumo wrestler, Edmund Honda, who's size and weight proved to be his downfall, as the warrior dispatched him using his superior speed and agility.   
  
Second came the American, William Guile, whom many believed to be the one to defeat the warrior. Yet again they were proved wrong, as Guile's tendency to rely on raw emotions rather than thought proved his downfall.   
  
Then came Guy, the master of the art of Bushido. The warrior respected the man, for the Bushido master was an honorable fighter, like himself. And truly, after a long and exhausting battle, when the warrior defeated Guy, the two promised to remain rivals.   
  
Next came Zangief, the mountain of a man who used Russian wrestling techniques and brute force to defeat those who faced him. He relied almost totally on physical strength, swinging his huge fists around him, hacking and punching with little finesse but with horrible effectiveness. His throws and punches relied on brute force to harm his opponent, but brute force would not be sufficient, however, as the warrior bested him as well.   
  
And so the warrior advanced to the second round, where he met the female warrior and Interpol agent, Chun-Li, once again. For years the two had known each other, sparring and training with each other occasionally. It seemed for a long time that the warrior saw something else in the woman, feelings akin to affection or even love, the human emotion that had evaded him for so long...but improvement of his skills came first, and he defeated her as well, albeit injuring her as little as was possible to him. He then swore to the hospitalized woman that he would take revenge for her father's death for her...at the hands of the man known only as " Bison."  
  
Then came Charlie Nash, the American Guile's partner and Chun-Li's operational commander. And like the previous American, Charlie would join his partner in defeat, as Charlie's lack of speed when throwing his attacks proved his downfall.  
  
The final match of the second round saw him meet Sakura, the teenage schoolgirl who searched for the warrior, hoping to become his apprentice. The warrior saw great potential in the girl and her fighting skills, and he was truly flattered that someone would want to emulate his own skills...but he decided that having a student would not be in his best interests at the moment, and so defeated her as well. He was very impressed that the teenager had managed to even get past the first match, let alone reach the second round... hers was a fighting style that was already deadly, and could only get better with time. Perhaps, the warrior promised himself, someday, he would take her as an apprentice...  
  
The third and final round saw him meet the Four Kings of Shadowloo, the dark organization which had organised the tournament. First came Balrog, the American boxer who's penchant for brutality in and out of the ring barred him from the boxing arena. The warrior dispatched him with ease, as Balrog's failure to use his legs in any way, prohibited him from presenting any real challenge to the warrior's superior skils.   
  
The Spanish Ninja, Vega, met him second. With a steel claw and a mask adorning his self proclaimed "perfect face," Vega's deadly art of combined Ninjitsu and Bullfighting techniques had claimed the lives of many a challenger. And yet, albeit battered, bleeding and shaken, the warrior emerged victorious yet again.  
  
Finally, the man known as Victor Sagat, whom the warrior had defeated in an earlier tournament, had come to take revenge in the third match of the third round. The scar the warrior had left on his chest as a result of his Dragon Punch constantly reminded both combatants of the previous results, and Sagat had trained long and hard to finally face the warrior... but history repeats itself, and though this time Sagat truly tested the warrior's skills, still he fell in defeat at the hands of the awesome power known as the Shoryuken. And yet, something stirred in Sagat's cold heart that day...something akin to admiration, perhaps, towards the warrior, but whatever it was the Muay Thai master kept it hidden well as he left the battleground in defeat.  
  
Following Sagat's defeat the Shadowloo King himself, M. Bison, appeared, and as the warrior personally challenged the dark one to a one on one match, Bison merely laughed, a cold, emotionless laugh, and dispatched two of his best assassins, two females, challenging him to defeat them both. Once he did so, he would meet Bison.   
  
" Defeat these two, " Bison challenged out to the warrior, in that voice that lacked any soul or definition, " and I will meet you in single combat, after one week. Then we shall see if you are truly the warrior you claim yourself to be!! "  
  
With that, Bison dissappeared, vanished into thin air...how he had been able to do it was lost to the warrior, but he had no time to contemplate it as the first of the two assassins leapt at him in an attack.  
  
This first assassin, a young, thin, skeleton of a girl, perhaps no more than fifteen or sixteen, with orange hair known as Juni, was dispatched easily by the warrior. Her training had taught her how to kill a man in an infinite amount of ways...but her inexperience associated with her youth and little actual combat experience meant that the skills she knew in her brain could not be used effectively with her fists and feet. Every attack she launched was countered, every attack he launched landed, as the warrior made short work of his younger opponent, landing blow after blow on her, before finishing her with a sharp uppercut which knocked her sprawling into the ground, her head hitting the earth with a sharp thud, knocking her senseless.  
  
Now her unconscious body laid several feet away from the warrior, who now faced his second opponent. This woman, he knew, was older, more experienced, more matured, physically at least. He had to find out now if her skills could keep her from suffering the same defeat her partner had suffered.  
  
This was the woman known simply as Juli, who's very name stirred feelings of fear and intimidation in the hearts of many a combatant. Indeed, hers and the names of the twelve Shadowloo dolls, each named after a month of the calendar, were names feared throughout the world by street fighters, government agents, and rival drug lords alike. Each of them knew how to kill a man ten times before he hit the ground...and it was this which allowed Bison to rule with an iron fist over the trade of illegal drugs and arms, using fear to keep his lesser lords in place, lest they find an end at the hands of one of the dolls.  
  
Her reputation as one of the twelve dolls of the Shadowloo boss and as a cold hearted assassin with no feelings of remorse whatsoever was known far and wide, perhaps even moreso than the other eleven, because she was their commanding officer, and answered only to Bison himself. Never once had she failed in a mission, never once had she been toppled in single combat. Her combat skills, the warrior knew now, could back up her reputation.  
  
Her beauty was of a different matter. Rumors were widespread of how Shadowloo dolls would seduce their targets and bed them before killing them when their eyes were glazed over with pleasure..but they were only rumors. If it were true, the warrior knew, this woman's body could easily back it up.   
  
A stark contrast to her partner, long, lithe legs led to a well carved waist and hips, and a well...endowed upper body, with full, rounded breasts and strong, tough arms. Chocolate hair had been piled on top of a petite head in a bun behind her head, and two long bangs descended from a small beret she wore, to cover part of a face that was both stunningly beautiful, and stunningly deadly at the same time. And it was all covered in a sleek, navy bodysuit that left only her back bare, where it revealed tight, creamy vanilla skin. Her body was toned, tight, a well oiled fighting machine, evidence of years of the harsh training regimes imposed on her by the Shadowloo organization. She moved with the ease and fluidity of a tiger or panther stalking it's prey, jumping and leaping as if gravity meant nothing to her and did nothing to weigh her down. It was a body that belonged to an angel, in more ways than one, the warrior observed. A dark angel.  
  
She was young, in her early twenties, perhaps, not much older than the warrior himself, her body young and firm with age, yet experienced enough to have the knowledge on how to control it. She was a deadly beauty. Very deadly. But it was her eyes that entranced him most, those chocolate, narrow eyes, filled with suppressed rage and pain and another emotion that the warrior could not name.  
  
For a tense hour the warrior and the assassin engaged in mortal combat. It seemed for many long minutes that the two were perfectly matched, as the two traded punch and kick and throw and projectile, testing each other's defenses and exploiting weak points when they revealed themselves. However, the woman was just a little bit faster than the warrior, in every way, as her long, deadly legs found his ribs a half a second faster than his fists could block, and her lithe body ducked out of the way half a second before the warrior's punch could find her face.   
  
Several times the assassin drew blood with her fists, as they crashed into his jaw or cheek.   
  
Undaunted, the warrior sent another hook aimed at the assassin's face, only to connect..with air. Where the woman was mere fractions of a second before there now stood nothing. In this momentary confusion, the warrior was unable to stop her from ducking and sweeping both her legs in a roundhouse kick, knocking the warrior's legs out from under him. He landed hard on his shoulder, and looked up to see the woman had jumped high into the air, with a kick extended, ready to connect with his face, a killing blow ready to be delivered on his prone form...  
  
...when he rolled to his right, out of instinct rather than voluntary thought. Mere moments later the assassin's foot struck the ground where his head had just been, the impact causing a small crater in the soft earth, bits and pieces of soil and hard stone spraying from the impact point. It was an impact which could have broken the ankle of a lesser trained warrior, and yet the assassin simply snapped into a fighting stance, ready to face her opponent once more, eyes still locked on his, her face an emotionless mask, a killing machine who had identified her prey and was pondering the best way to eliminate it.  
  
Now the two stood, circling each other, each in their fighting stances.  
  
The warrior noticed that thus far the assassin had not spoken a word; unusual indeed, no battle cry as a blow landed, no shout or cry of pain as she blocked a hard blow...just silence, a haunting silence...  
  
The rain that had been a mere trickle minutes before had now intensified slightly, limiting the vision of both combatants, as both repeatedly wiped rainwater away from eyes. The girl's uniform and hair were soaked now, clinging to her lithe body like a second skin, as was the warrior's gi. The warrior and the assassin both moved closer slightly, hoping so see each other's coming attacks better. The warrior was keenly aware of a warm trickle of blood flowing down the side of his head...had he hit his head on the ground when she tripped him? He didn't know..it all happened too fast.  
  
Her eyes, however, the warrior saw clearly. They remained locked on his, never once moving or showing any emotion other than the suppressed rage associated with street fights. There was something else in those eyes, he knew, those panther-like eyes, though the warrior couldnt detect it..was it fear? pride? pleasure that she was winning the fight? Her eyes...  
  
No time for wondering, as the woman suddenly launched herself at him, right fist closed tightly, aimed directly at his face, with all the speed and ferocity of lightning. He saw this one, and brought up both forearms in an "x" to block the punch, while launching his own counterattack in the form of a kick aimed at her midsection. It landed, and he felt the satisfaction of finally hitting his opponent, as his heel impacted against her ribs. But the assassin was undaunted by this, and parried his follow up attacks.  
  
She was quick, too quick. A missed jab aimed at her face resulted in her countering and jumping straight up, her legs almost level with his face, until she trapped his face between those thighs, then, faster than the warrior could realise what was happening, she was doing a half backflip, and throwing the warrior several feet away using only the strength of her thighs and legs. The warrior landed roughly, but quickly snapped up into a fighting stance. He needed to be more careful, or face defeat at the hands of this woman, so close and yet so far away to his goal of defeating Bison.  
  
It was a move he had seen before. The British warrior, Cammy White, had used it to defeat the Jamaican kickboxer, Dee Jay, on her way to face Guile, who would in turn defeat her to face the warrior. He remembered witnessing the fight first-hand, how the agile British woman vaulted over a hastily thrown projectile to trap the kickboxer between those steel-cord legs and toss him away, knocking him out with the impact, using only her lower body strength...and now that he noticed it the assassin he fought now used many of the same attacks and was dressed similarly...could there be a connection, he wondered, between the two?  
  
The warrior also knew that the woman's fighting style, like Cammy's, meant that power and endurance had been sacrificed in favor of speed, and every minute that passed meant that the warrior was winning the battle. Slowly he began to wear her down, defending as best he could those lightning quick legs, letting her tire herself out..before launching a counterattack.   
  
The assassin launched herself at the warrior once more, and the two locked in battle anew. The woman was a blur as she launched a flurry of fists and kicks at the warrior, who calmly and efficiently blocked and parried them in return, before sending a counter-attack in the form of a backfist, aimed for the lovely face that belonged to the assassin. As if it were the most natural thing in the world the assassin parried and at the same time sent a knee crashing into the warrior, knocking the air out of him and making him double over in pain. The assassin then brought the same knee up, striking the warrior full in the chin, whipping his head back fiercely, crimson blood flying from a bloodied mouth.  
  
The warrior, trying his best to stay on his two feet after recovering from this harsh blow, decided to go on the offensive. He feigned a right hook, but instead sent a left jab aimed at her shoulder. The assassin, left open as she tried to block the feigned hook, was powerless to stop the jab, and she suddenly felt her arm go numb under the pain of the impact. In a split second the warrior saw that she was using only one arm to defend herself...and took full advantage of the opening.  
  
At first, a light jab aimed at her temple to daze her, then a knee to the stomach, followed by a sharp roundhouse to the ribs...he saw an opening and he exploited it, seeing that he had gained the upper hand. Her fatigue was taking away her speed and leaving her defenseless, and skillfully and with the ease given to him through years of training, he rained blow after blow on the woman, who brought her forearms up in a weak attempt to block his attacks. Somewhere in the blur of his fists he saw the assassin had launched a kick against him, aimed for his ribs in a vain attempt at a counter-attack.   
  
Fast as lightning he reached for the leg, and, taking firm grasp of her ankle, brought his elbow up and down with harsh force, hitting the extended leg just under the kneecap. Both heard the sickening snap that could only be bone breaking under the warrior's elbow. The assassin opened her mouth as if to scream, but the warrior did not allow her the opportunity as, with calm, practiced precision, he went through the motions of the Tatsu-maki-senpu, jumping up in the air and slashing his feet at her vulnerable body, using all the force, ferocity, and rage of a hurricane, before landing and delivering a twirling roundhouse kick that sent her flying into a nearby tree, blood falling away from those crimson lips.  
  
She smacked against it with a sickening thud, and slowly fell forwards, on her knees, a single hand bracing herself against the ground, the other clutching her stomach as if in pain. A thick rivulet of crimson blood had begun to appear at the corner of the assassin's mouth, and had flowed down her chin, and unto the turtleneck of the drenched bodysuit. Chocolate hair that was once so neatly placed was roughed up, stray locks of hair falling from her head to fall in front of her face. Her face, those stunning features, lay contorted and twisted in pain.  
  
Her eyes...still the assassin's eyes remained locked on his. Now, however, the warrior could see that they were no longer flat, emotionless. Now they had a look of pain, mingled with desperation...perhaps that was the emotion that he had failed to name earlier.  
  
Desperation.  
  
The woman began to rise, using both her arms for support, bringing her feet up slowly, as a toddler first beginning to learn how to walk. Her good leg rose, shakily, and she brought the other leg, the one that the warrior had almost broken, up under her..she rose up, shaking violently, until she fell again, on her knees, her injured leg giving way underneath her. She could not stand. The assassin could not stand, much less jump or kick with the leg, something which meant death in the street fighting circles.  
  
The warrior had won.  
  
He relaxed from his fighting stance, bringing up a hand to wipe at the blood that had begun to flow down the side of his face. Giving one last glance at the woman that had been the greatest test of his fighting skills so far in this tournament, the warrior turned to walk away. The woman's master, Bison, awaited his fists, and he had only one week to prepare for him. Not one second could be wast-  
  
  
" Stop! "  
  
  
The warrior turned in the direction of the voice, realising that it came from the woman, and that it was the first time he had heard her voice. It was a soft voice, he realised, one that came from an English country, judging from the accent, filled with the same desperation he noticed in her features and eyes earlier.  
  
She had extended a hand towards him, still on her knees, her injured leg forbidding her from standing. Her hand was clutched towards him, as if wanting to grab him.  
  
" We're...not...we're not fi...finished yet, warrior! " she managed to shout, in between deep breaths, the blood in her mouth as a result of a lost tooth keeping her from speaking clearly. Now the warrior had turned, so he was facing the pleading assassin, who was now standing shakily on her good leg, one arm bracing her body against the tree trunk she impacted against, the other trying to wipe away the blood from her mouth. She had never lost a street fight in her years as a Shadowloo agent, and she swore to herself right then and there it would not be today.  
  
" Fight..fight me! I'm not..de...dead yet! It isn...isnt over! "  
  
The warrior merely tucked both thumbs into his belt, before looking at the woman, who was struggling to stand, blood flowing from her mouth and from the side of her head. He was Japanese, but his accent held more of an American tone, as he spoke:  
  
" You're injured, badly, assassin. You can't fight me anymore. I've won. "  
  
The assassin seemed insulted.  
  
" One...leg.is...is all i need! Come on!! "  
  
" I will not fight you any longer, assassin. "  
  
" You..you will! If you will not fi..fight me,I..I will fight you! "  
  
With that, the woman stepped forward, determined to continue the fight...and promptly fell forward, her leg giving way beneath her, and she brought her hands up to stop the fall as the ground rose up to meet her...  
  
...ground that did not quite reach her, as she felt something wrap around her, stopping her from falling face first into the ground. She opened the eyes that she did not know had closed, to find that the very warrior that she sought to kill had lept forward and caught her in his arms, stopping her from falling painfully face first onto the cold, unforgiving ground.  
  
She looked up at him, through eyes that were blurred and pained, at his eyes, those large, brown eyes that looked, at least to the assassin, that they were deep in thought, and another emotion flashed between the two pairs of eyes...  
  
But she was a Shadowloo agent: her mission came first. If this fool was stupid enough to think she was some soft hearted whore, it would be the mistake that killed him.  
  
She darted her right fist up, closed in a killing strike, aimed for his temple...  
  
...and it was caught by the warrior at her wrist, mere centimetres before the fist could impact upon his white bandanna, calmly and cooly. She shook her fist, trying to get it free, but the warrior's grip proved too strong.  
  
" You're hurt, " the warrior said, his voice now lacking the hardness and sharp edge associated with fighting men, " this fight is over."  
  
The assassin's eyes went wide, as she still lay in the warrior's arms, him holding onto the wrist that had tried to kill him mere seconds before.  
  
" I tried to...kill you!! You al..almost killed my sis..sister!! Why..help me?!? " she said, the words spilling out of her bloodied mouth faster than her brain knew she was saying them, " who, who are..you...? "  
  
The warrior relaxed his grip on her wrist, letting it go completely. Evidently he trusted the same woman who had just tried her best to kill him.  
  
  
  
" Ryu. "  
  
  
  
Seconds of silence, as the assassin finally realised who this man was. THE Ryu, the same man who defeated the almighty Victor Sagat, left a scar on his chest, an eternal reminder of his shame and defeat..the same Ryu who defeated the highly touted American, Captain Guile? The same Ryu, who trained with the American, Ken, under their master, Gouken? The same Ryu who's Shotokan skills, and fighting skills in general, for that matter, were unmatched by any other human being on the planet? Surely this could not be the same man who held her in his arms!  
  
She studied his face. It matched the descriptions of the Japanese fighter who had defeated Sagat, Vega and Balrog. Despite the numerous cuts and bruises he had obtained at her hands, she noted, he was still blindingly handsome...his face was tough, young, but contained a kind of innocence about it, an almost childish innocence, as if he were a young boy, forced by necessity and nature to fight....He was younger than she, he knew, but not by much; probably a year or so seperated her from him.  
  
" You...you lie!! " she shouted in defiance, before coughing slightly on her own blood, even though she knew it was true. She had read all the reports Shadowloo agents had given to her, the reports of him hurling bolts of lightning and harnessing the destructive force of a hurricane in his kicks...and posessing the legendary Shoryuken, the killing uppercut that scarred Sagat for life...   
  
No wonder she had lost.  
  
" I don't lie, assassin. You are hurt. Let me help you. "  
  
" Never! Lord Bison..is..is my master! I will..not betray him! "  
  
" You will face the wrath of your master. "  
  
" I'd...I'd rather face the..the wrath of my Lord than go with you."  
  
" He will kill you."  
  
" I would rath..rather die a fail..failure..than... live a de..deserter."  
  
Ryu regarded the woman in his arms, bringing up a hand to softly brush away a stray lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes. Those eyes. Filled with pain, not merely physical but, also, he could sense an inner pain, a pain he suspected was a result of having things taken away from her, things she even did not know existed; the joys of childhood, the innocence and curiousity of adolescense...she was an adult now that had experienced nothing that even resembled a normal human life. It was all taken away, ripped from her existence by a coldless, heartless bastard of a man, no laughter, no tears, no anger...leaving only a mindless robot of a slave. This was a woman who clearly would have lived a wonderful life, had not the man known as Bison and his dark Shadowloo corporation cruelly entered her life and ripped it from her. It was a sad story, all very sad.  
  
He realised right then and there that her life resembled his in some ways, although to him, it was his street fighting skills that took the place of this evil corporation...  
  
" ...a kindred spirit... "  
  
he muttered the words softly under his breath, not even realising that he had spoken them out loud. Although the woman heard the words clearly, she did not know then what they meant.  
  
The warrior, Ryu, merely shook his head, as if contemplating something in his mind. Then, gently, handling the assassin as if she were some delicate jewel, she slid an arm underneath the back of her knees, and slowly lifted her up, hefting her as if she was the lightest thing in the world, taking care not to put too much pressure on her injured knee. To his surprise, the assassin did not resist, as he began to walk back to the very tree she had hit. Delicately, with soft care that betrayed his fierce exterior, he laid her down on the tree, so she her back was leaning against the tree's bark.  
  
" Who are you, assassin? "  
  
" My name is of li.. little... import..tance, warrior.."  
  
" Everyone has a name, assassin. "  
  
The woman looked away from him, staring at something in the distance, her eyes locked on it. She was contemplating something...  
  
" Juli. Juli..my name is Juli. "  
  
" Juli, " Ryu repeated, " ..is a nice name. "  
  
Ryu thought he saw the beginnings of a smile form on Juli's bloodied lips, but brushed the thought away, as he turned to see what it was that she was looking at. When he could see nothing out of the ordinary, the warrior turned to face the assassin Juli once more.  
  
The assassin fell asleep or unconscious against the tree bark, the warrior couldn't tell which, mumbling something softly...  
  
" ni...n....ice..............n.....ame. "  
  
For the first time in her twenty one years of existence, Juli felt something akin to comfort stir in the the heart that had stayed dormant and free of warmth for so long.  
  
The warrior giving the beautiful young woman one last glance, he rose, and, tightening the headband that was so important to him around his head, turned and walked away....  
  
...not knowing that at that moment a pair of eyes where watching him, eyes that had observed and listened to every detail of the last battle, from the moment that he had engaged in combat with the assassin...  
  
...a pair of eyes that lacked pupils.  
  
  
  
  
  
Unaware to Ryu, back on the battlefield he had left just minutes before, Juni, the first Shadowloo doll sent to destroy Ryu, had begun to regain her consciousness. She absently wiped away several strands of orange hair, as she pushed herself up on her elbows. The rain still continued, drenching every inch of her clothing as she lay unconscious.  
  
Her petite body felt sore..every inch, it seemed. She brought a hand up to hold her cheek... so painful. The last thing she remembered was hopping off Lord Bison's chopper, to where the warrior with the headband waited for them...then challenging him to a fight, while Juli waited, in case she failed...  
  
Juli!  
  
She searched around her, looking for any evidence of her sister and commanding officer. Her trained eyes noticed that the ground had been torn up and was marked with footprints, evidence of a struggle, probably between Juli and the bandanna wearing man...  
  
Her gaze turned left, to suddenly find that she was staring at a pair of ivory kneeguards. Only one person she knew wore them: Lord Bison.  
  
Juni slowly gazed up the Shadowloo King's intimidating body until she landed on his face.  
  
No one but the Shadowloo King himself knew how old he was, how long his reign of terror had lasted over the lands of the earth. Regardless, his visible features displayed those of a younger man, perhaps in his early fourties, with the physique and muscular frame associated with fighting men ten, perhaps twenty years younger than he. His face was truly imposing, features that could strike fear in any man. His eyes, however, were probably the most intimidating feature of the man; they contained no pupils, leaving the entire eye white. To stare into the eyes and face of M.Bison, it was known, was to stare into the eyes and face of Satan himself.  
  
The King was dressed in his usual crimson fighting garb, elegantly made, tailored specifically for the body they housed. Along the borders dragons were stitched into the fabric, locked in an eternal battle with each other. A wide belt adorned his waist, emblazoned with the symbol of Shadowloo: the winged skull, grinning cheerlessly from it's position on the waist of the King. Ivory armor plates adorned his shins, shoulders and forearms, finely crafted, made of the finest ivory and metals, complex patterns carved onto it's surfaces. They were of little defensive use in battle; they were merely there to serve as intimidation and as a symbol of his power. And a great power it was, as that intimidation was one of the Shadowloo's greatest weapons.  
  
A grey-black cloak that never once left the King was tied loosely about those same shoulders, tied around his wide neck with a chain made of enough gold and platinum to buy a small country. The cloak billowed out behind him when he walked, as if announcing the arrival of the devil himself upon the planet.  
  
The very name of M.Bison brought governments to their knees and was the name many throughout the world feared, hated...but few saw the Shadowloo King in the person. Many times seeing the Lord meant that he was displeased with something. Therefore seeing imposing features of Bison often meant that death was near, very near, for the truly unlucky soul he looked upon. Death was his companion, his friend.  
  
The unlucky soul he looked upon today was that of one of his Shadowloo dolls, that of Juni. Fear was evident in the young girl's eyes, as she nervously, shakily stood up, and offered a sharp salute to her Lord and commander.  
  
Bison crossed his arms about his massive chest, his expression changing from one of hate to one of dissappointment, as he spoke in a clear, booming voice that demanded attention.  
  
" You have failed, have you not, Agent Juni? "  
  
The girl was visibly scared, as her reply came clumsily out of her mouth.  
  
" Y..Yes sir, I have failed, Lord. "  
  
" Where is your commanding officer, Agent Juli? "  
  
" I...I...I am not sure at this moment, Lord. "  
  
Bison regarded the girl standing in front of him for a moment, as if contemplating what to do with her. Juni stood nervously in front of him, only wondering what possible evils the Lord had in store for her, as Bison regarded her with those stone cold eyes, lacking both emotion or soul.  
  
The Lord made a movement, reaching into his cloak, pulling out something which Juni feared was a weapon..  
  
..and instead produced something small in his hands, holding it in front of the doll for her to regard. It was a small, navy blue beret issued to the Shadowloo dolls, with the winged skull stitched into it's fabric...  
  
It was Juli's beret.  
  
" Do you know what this is, Agent Juni? " Bison asked, his voice now filled with something resembling contempt.  
  
" Th..that is Agent Juli's beret, Lord. "  
  
" And do you know where she is, Agent? "  
  
" No, I do not, Lord. "  
  
" Do you know where the warrior known as Ryu is, Agent? "  
  
" No, I do not, Lord. "  
  
" I will ask you again, agent... what has become of Agent Juli?? "  
  
  
Bison turned away from his doll, his back facing the nervous girl, his cloak caught in a stiff breeze. He looked down at the beret, feeling it's soft fabric, his fingers idly fondling the Shadowloo symbol..when he spun around to face the girl, his face full of rage.  
  
  
" She is defeated!! " Bison shouted, his voice now full with contempt towards this youngest of his twelve dolls, the voice booming over the otherwise silent battleground. For several tense seconds after the King spoke, that silence retook the youngest of the Shadowloo dolls, only the soft pitter-patter of the rain hitting her Lord's shoulder pads interupting the dead silence. The Lord lifted a hand, and Juni followed it to see that it was pointing to a nearby tree, where Juli was slumped against it's trunk. Her mouth was bloodied and it was obvious she was a battered mess... it seemed she too had lost her bout with the warrior.  
  
" Can you two have failed, Agent?!?! "  
  
" I...I cannot, Lord. "  
  
" You are worthless!! Both of you!! "  
  
Bison's verbal rage impacted greatly on the young woman in front of him, who was just barely able to reply.  
  
" I...I'm sorry I have failed, my Lord."  
  
" Sorry! Ha! Sorry is not good enough!! "  
  
Bison stopped, as if something new had been brought up to his attention. He glared at the unconscious form of Juli slumped against the tree, regarding her with his fierce eyes. For several tense minutes Juni watched as the most feared man on earth regarded her sister, as if contemplating something, no trace of any emotion apparent on those cold, soulless features.  
  
After awhile the Lord spoke again, his voice commanding attention from his soldier.   
  
" Return to base, Agent Juni. "  
  
" Of course, my Lord. What of Agent Juli? "  
  
  
  
" Leave her. "  
  
  
  
  
Juni stood motionless, not quite comprehending what the Shadowloo King had in mind. Leave her? She was not dead, she knew; the woman's chest was rising and falling weakly, and within a couple of days, she could be back to operational strength again... why leave her?  
  
" Return to base, Agent Juni. "  
  
" But... but my Lord, why... why leave Agent Juli? "  
  
Bison turned to face the youngest of his dolls. Juni herself did not even realise what she was doing; she was questioning the orders of the Lord of Shadowloo himself... but it was too late to take back those words..  
  
" I will... I will pretend you have not questioned my orders, Agent Juni. Now return to base before I change my mind and kill you here and now. I have plans for Agent Juli..."   
  
She was trying in vain to think of such a reason when Bison erupted in laughter, a loud, booming, cold laughter, filled with the sharpness and ferocity of a madman. He threw his head back, laughing coldly at the dark, unforgiving sky that rained down upon his icy features, as if taunting heaven itself.   
  
  
***  
  
Half an hour later, and Juni had returned to the large flying fortress that was the Shadowloo jet. She had just walked up the stairs to the cabin, eager to rest her battered and bruised body.. when she felt a cold presence behind her, one that could only belong to one person. She turned to see that the Lord had returned.  
  
Without Juli.  
  
Juni looked down to see that in her Lord's fist, Juli's beret had erupted in the same cold, blue flame that was associated with the master who wielded it, incinerating the piece of cloth completely.  
  
Bison let the ashes fall to the muddy earth, as he continued his manical laugh.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's note:  
  
Well there it is... after playing Street Fighter Alpha 3 again, I saw that Juli's character had a lot of potential to it.. so I guess I'm trying to breathe some character into this otherwise characterless character (say that three times fast). You should note that I decided to let Juli speak normally, instead of making her speak like a robot, as Capcom did with Alpha3...Then an idea sparked my mind, and I decided to start writing this... this is my first Street Fighter fic, so forgive me if I miss a couple of details!  
  
So what happened to Juli? Ryu? Juni? Stay tuned...  
  
Quote of the day:  
  
Hell is paved with good intentions.  
-Dr.Grant, Jurassic Park 3   
  
Peace, love, and don't do drugs  
~hustler one  



	2. Chapter 2

Kindred Spirits  
by hustler one  
  
Pain.  
  
Pain is something every human being comes to feel and become familiar with. It is unavoidable; at one point or another each and every one of us experiences it, often each and every day of our lives. Often it is a mere sting associated with hitting one's toes on a table leg, or a scrape a young one recieves after tumbling down from the seat of his or her bike.   
  
Other, more rare times, it is more, perhaps a broken bone, a deeper cut, requiring stitches or some other sort of medical aid. Still other times, even further and fewer between, it can be a different kind of pain, a harsh, excruciating pain, one so all consuming and painful that one feels nothing else; it is only the pain that exists, and sometimes, in these rare, perhaps once in a lifetime moments, death can be the only release possible from the pain that has so quickly and brutally entered their lives.  
  
Death.  
  
It is a pain experienced by a very unlucky few. Many give in to their pain, wishing to get it over with at the uncountable cost of their very lives. A truly high cost, one no one can afford to pay, but pay anyway. Street Fighters form a large amount of these people, for in their chosen path of life this kind of pain is the one many of them can and do encounter. This is what makes them so tough: the knowledge that their very next opponent, the one they see beyond their fists, can be the one that can cause such pain. And so street fighters fight, knowing full well that their next opponent could be their last, that they will never see another sunrise, never hear the song of birds in the morning, never feel the wind's cool breeze, or the touch of their loved ones...  
  
But recieving pain is one thing. Giving pain is another. For a few, some would say mad, insane human beings, giving and inflicting pain becomes an art, something to be enjoyed fully at the cost of the lives of the one who is in fact receiving the pain. These madmen revel in it, enjoy it. Sadistic individuals, these men and women are.  
  
One of these men is M.Bison. He loved to inflict pain. Pain was his friend, his ally. Everyday he loved to inflict it, whether it was on the latest fool to try to defeat him in combat or reprimanding the concubine who failed to give him enough of what he craved.  
  
Today, his daily dose of pain was inflicted on the unlucky soul of one of his Dolls, the one known as Juli.  
  
He held his palm out to her form sprawled against a tree, her battered frame's chest rising and fell weakly. She was still alive, but just barely. A cold smile played upon his lips as he sent his dark energy, his psycho energy, coursing through her weakened body.  
  
Immediately the effect was evident. Her eyes shot open and then closed shut, bloodshot and tired eyes, her bloodied lips parted, and she screamed loudly in pain, as if screaming could alleviate the pain the energy was causing to her body. Her hands clutched at her chest, as if something were inside her, threatening to rip out her heart. Her entire body shuddered and shaked fiercely, as her screams, and the pain within her, intensified.  
  
Bison did not move, his dark energy still erupting from his palm, into Juli's body, causing her to scream all the more loudly in pain. He smiled, as he intensified the power of his energy, causing his doll's curvaceous body to again contort in pain. He looked upon her features, her bruised and bloodied face. It was battered, but still beautiful, as always. She was indeed a beautiful creature... it seemed almost evil to cause such pain to such a woman...  
  
...but then again Bison was evil. Evil was his name.  
  
And so he stood over her, as a devil playing with his pawn, as the tortured angel before him screamed and shouted, her normally soft and emotionless voice filled with wordless screams of agony. With a flick of his wrist, her body began to move, to...levitate in midair, as if he had grabbed her by the throat and lifted her up, yet his fingers had not touched her. Still she clutched at her chest, as if at any moment her heart could explode. Truly what she was feeling at this point was the kind of pain that only had death itself at as a release.  
  
But death would not come mercifully, as the very man torturing her commanded death itself.  
  
Bison regarded again her form, as it floated in front of him, held up by his dark energies. His pupilless eyes roamed over her body, twisted in pain as it was. It was a body that he could enjoy ravaging and playing with, as a cat playing with a mouse before killing it... but he corrected himself. It was a toy indeed, but it was a failed toy. All toys are destined to lose their novelty and be thrown away, failures. It had failed in it's duty, and therefore it was imperfect.  
  
Imperfection was something M.Bison could not tolerate.  
  
Besides, he had other things on his mind, the warrior Ryu one of them. He had watched the entire battle between him and Juli, seeing how the warrior calmly and cooly disected the doll, before finally finishing her off. Could he be the challenge that he so craved? Could he be the one to actually topple the almighty M. Bison? He had again defeated the other three Kings of Shadowloo, including Sagat. Truly this meant he was strong indeed. Could he be the one? It had been so long since he faced a warrior worthy of dying at his hands... could this mere child of a street fighter be the one to actually defeat him?   
  
No, he corrected himself. No. No one can defeat me.  
  
He laughed cruelly at the unforgiving skies, before turning his attention to the now almost unconscious woman who levitated in front of him. Wait, he thought. He looked at the woman with a renewed attention, like a child first looking at a toy he wanted in some store's windowsill. A cruel thought appeared in his dark mind. She wanted death, eh...  
  
Mercifully, or mercilessly, perhaps, he stopped the flow of dark energy coursing through his doll's body, and absorbed the psycho energy he had implanted into her back into his own body. Her barely conscious form dropped from the air, as if the invisible chains holding her up had just snapped. She lay crumpled and broken on the dirt, her eyes closed, her chest still rising and falling weakly.   
  
He regarded her once more.   
  
Suddenly, his voice boomed, as he threw his head back and laughed, taunting the dark, uncaring sky, his cruel voice falling on deafened ears, as under him his doll fell into the relative comfort of unconsciousness. Instead of giving her the release she wanted in the form of death, he turned, the same maniacal laughter still booming from his lips. He reached down, and took the doll's beret from her head, which carried the winged skull and thus marked her as a soldier of Shadowloo. Bison grabbed her chin and put the beret in front of her face for her to see. Then he made a fist with his hand, crushing the beret's metal winged skull. After giving her one last look, and after the booming laughter started again, he left her there to die.  
  
Juli did not die there, but whether this was fortunate or unfortunate, she could not tell.  
  
  
***  
  
The next day...  
  
It was a bright, sunny day, the birds whistled and a soft breeze blew, making it hot but not too hot. The rains of the previous day had subsided and left the odd puddle here and there, but the greatest evidence of a storm having just passed was the sweet smell in the air, the smell of dew and the smell only found after walking through a forest after a good rain shower.  
  
It was on the side of this mountain, within this forest, that a man made his home. He had built it himself, and he was quite proud of it indeed. Outside one could see the odd piece of training equipment; punching bags, wooden sparring blocks, and other assorted items used to hone one's fighting skill stood around the small house. The house itself was built of bamboo and other local materials, in true Japanese tradition. Inside was a simple man's belongings, no more than a simple bed, a table, two chairs, and other associated simple furniture for storing clothes and what-not. On a small table was a radio and a portable t.v.; the occupier of the house was simple, yes, but not a complete hermit.  
  
Ryu Hoshi stepped out it's doors, a towel around his neck, breathing in this same beautiful morning air, ready for his early morning jog that would take him down the small mountain he had built his home on, around the surrounding countryside, then back up the mountain to home. It was a daily ritual and while Ryu didn't really need the exersize, he still continued to take it, if for no other reason than to enjoy the sights and sounds of nature. He began at a walk, stretching his body and preparing for another day's training, and when he was far enough from his home, he began the jog.  
  
Many things filled his mind, the most prevailing thought that of his battle with the Shadowloo dolls. He had a practice of dissecting every match he had taken, in order to see what his weaknesses and mistakes were, and learn from them in the future. The first doll, Juni, wasn't much of a challenge; he had fought much more dangerous opponents in the three tournament rounds on his way to their meeting, and thus he didn't learn much from her. Still, he learned that inexperience was a street fighter's greatest enemy. It was important to gain something from every battle, win or loss.  
  
The second battle with a Shadowloo doll was what intruiged him the most. Juli, the commander of the dolls, quite the formidable foe; she presented him with his greatest challenge thus far in the tournament, giving her almost as much of of challenge as a spar with his rival, Ken Masters. But however much he concentrated on dissecting his match with her, he constantly found himself thinking of other things, such as her eyes, those deep dark brown pools that looked endless; as if a man could drown in them and lose his soul to them. They looked deadly, yes, but also they possessed a kind of innocence that was associated with a woman who had no idea what the concept of freedom was.  
  
Ryu found himself wondering what had become of the dolls. He assumed that a Shadowloo extraction team would have picked her up by now, and taken her back to base for medical treatment. Nonetheless, for reasons even he himself didn't fully comprehend, he found himself taking a detour from his daily jogging path to the small clearing beside the highway where their battle had taken place earlier. It was more curiousity than anything else, he told himself. He was intruiged by her, but had no idea know why.  
  
Several minutes later, he reached the clearing. He couldn't explain it, but he felt some kind of disappointment to find that neither of the dolls were there. Signs of fresh footprints, most likely that of the extraction team, littered the area. Ryu found a small frown appearing on his lips, but he shook it off and turned, ready to begin his jog once more. He chastised himself for thinking of something other than his battle with Bison, which was to come in a week. He had to prepare himself; this battle promised to give him his greatest challenge. Defeating the King of Shadowloo was a challenge he needed, and a challenge no one else had yet conquered. It demanded his complete concentration.   
  
With this, Ryu pushed all the thoughts concerning the dolls out of his mind. They were unnecessary and they distracted him. Thus, he pretended that the battle that had took place where he stood last night did not happen. He turned and was prepared to close the book on the Shadowloo dolls, when his eyes caught something red glistening on the ground. He moved up to it, and found that it was the heavy steel fighting gauntlet Shadowloo dolls wore in battle. He crouched and took it in his hands, examining the cool, wet metal, and took a look around...  
  
...To find that Juli's body lying crumpled on the ground next to the same tree he had left her on last night, lying on her side, her eyes closed. He rushed over to her battered form, checking for a pulse. Was she alive? She had to be...  
  
He was relieved to find that a weak pulse still coursed through her. Her eyes were shut tight and her face contorted in an emotion of fear, as if she were having a nightmare that no one could wake her up from, a nightmare she was damned to live in for all eternity. He shook her slightly, hoping to wake her up if she were asleep. But she didn't stir. A thin rivulet of drying blood led from the corner of her mouth down to her neck, as well as down the side of her face, evidence of her battle with Ryu the night before.   
  
He brushed a stray lock of chocolate hair from her face. Her beret was missing; she probably had it knocked off in the battle, just as her gauntlet was. But why had a Shadowloo team not taken her back yet? The other doll, Juni, was missing... why take one of the dolls but not the other? Maybe the team had left her for dead, he reasoned; Juni, afterall, was knocked out early, and Ryu hadn't physically hurt her as much as Juli had demanded him to hurt herself. Maybe the team determined that Juni could be saved, and Juli couldn't.  
  
So heartless, so very heartless, of a corporation to leave one of it's own out here, in the wilderness of Japan, unconscious and hurt, alone to die. Ryu swore, to no one in particular, but he cursed Shadowloo. Juli was an enemy to him, yes, but no one deserves to be left out here to die alone, friend or foe. She had no family, yes, no one to mourn her death, or care about her passing, but to Ryu it still seemed a great waste of life. Besides, she still had a pulse; she could still live. Without knowing quite why he did so, he slid one of his hands under her knees, the other behind her shoulders, lifting her easily as he did the night before. Carefully, slowly, moving as if he were carrying the most delicate creature in the world, he made his way back to his home with her in his arms.  
  
***  
  
For a brief moment in time, Juli's life flashed before her eyes. She had no memory of her life before Shadowloo, for they were erased following her induction into the cruel corporation. What she remembered now was the years of brutal training, the endless hours strapped to a doctor's table while Shadowloo "doctors" messed around with her genetic structure, and perhaps most haunting, the psycho therapy which reduced her to a mindless, robotic killing machine. Her time with Shadowloo was painful, yes, but being robbed of her memories before the evil corporation had taken her from her family, she had nothing else to compare it to, and thus Shadowloo was the only home she knew.   
  
Now, as she lay on her back, her eyes closed, unknown emotions stirred up in her heart. She felt as if she was missing something; as if a part of her personality was taken away from her, but she didn't quite know what. Her body felt weak, her heart even weaker. It was as if some man had come and drained her of all that made her who she was.. as if she had been cleansed of something which she couldn't quite name. What had happened to her? The last thing she remembered was seeing Lord Bison approach her, then...  
  
"NO!"  
  
...she screamed, rising from her lying position to a sitting one, her hand reaching out in front of her as if to stop an attacker which existed only in her mind. But there was no one there, and after clearing the shock of her memory from her head, she found that she was in a small room, with a blanket over her. She still wore her Shadowloo uniform, but her boots and gauntlets were beside her in a neat pile.  
  
Slowly, she put two and two together. Of course! Bison had approached her after her defeat, and drained her of his psycho energy, removing his control over her. That would explain her new memories, these new emotions that she had not experienced until several moments ago. It was a painful process, removing the psycho energy from her that Bison used to keep her under his control... but it didn't matter to him, because he assumed she would die there.  
  
"No," she said aloud, softly, to herself. Surely Lord Bison would not leave her there to die. Bison was her King, any time now he would come and bring her back to Shadowloo, where she would continue to serve him. Right?   
  
It was then that she realised that she was missing her beret. Again, her memory flashed before her eyes; the image of Bison crouching in front of her bruised and battered body, then taking the beret from her head and crushing the Shadowloo insignia, the symbol of her service to him. It was an act of disownership, as if Juli were a pet Bison did not want anymore, a runt to be thrown to the curb, left to fend for itself. So he did leave her there to die. After devoting her life to his service, he had left her there to die...  
  
Disowned by the only home and master she knew, with no one to turn to, Juli cried herself back to sleep.  
  
***  
  
Whether days or weeks or hours had passed before she woke up again, she didn't know. What she did know was that she felt sore all over, as any fighter feels after a fight which nearly costs them their life. Hesitantly, she rose to a sitting position and took a look around. She was in the same small room she earlier awoke in. It was simple, made of bamboo and other local materials, evidence that she was still in Japan. So it wasn't a dream, Juli told herself. She almost wished that it had been a dream, that she would wake up any moment now in her Shadowloo quarters, ready to take missions from Bison...  
  
She shook her head to clear her mind of these thoughts. If Bison had disowned her, than she may as well to the same to him. At least now she was free, free to do as she wished. She would make her own destiny, Juli told herself, no more mindlessly killing him or her for "political" reasons...  
  
But she was an assassin by profession. Killing was something she was good at, regardless of who her target was. She realised now that she never liked killing, never liked to see blood or hear cries of pain...  
  
"What?" she said aloud to herself.  
  
What.. what were these new thoughts, these new emotions that had arisen within her? Never before had she wanted to be free, and now she had just told herself she was free to make her own destiny? And why is it that she now had a great dislike for killing? Never before had she felt this way...  
  
It was the psycho power leaving her, she reasoned. When Bison had drained her of his power, he also took away the memory erasure that Juli undertook almost daily, as well as the psycho control that reduced her to a mindless slave. Thus, all these once repressed memories and thoughts, such as her now apparent disdain for killing, now rose to the surface for the first time.  
  
Juli buried her face in her hands and shook her head, then ran her hands through her hair. It was all too much to take in at once. She decided to investigate her surroundings, and find out where the hell she was, to distract her mind more than anything else.   
  
She took another glance around. She was sitting in a small bed which was put in the corner of a small room. It was a simple room, with a dresser and a closet against the walls. A simple blanket covered her, and to her left Juli found her boots and gauntlets in a neat pile next to the bed, next to what seemed to be a simple white t-shirt. She may as well change out of her uniform, Juli thought. Afterall, it was all dirty from having been thrown around in the dirt, as well as having her own dried blood all over the collar. She swung her legs over the bed so they touched the floor-  
  
-only to grunt in pain as she put pressure on her left leg. She looked down and saw that it was heavily bandaged and splinted. Of course! Her duel with the warrior, Ryu, left her with an almost broken knee. On this trail of thought, she brought a hand to her face; only to find that her face was clean, free of blood, as if someone had cleaned her up before laying her to rest in the bed. A bandage adorned her right cheek, under which Ryu had left her a cut. Whomever had cleaned her up knew what they were doing; her leg was bandaged in just the right way to prevent future injury, and her cuts taken care of cleanly and efficiently.   
  
"Maybe I've died and gone to heaven," Juli said aloud to herself.  
  
Heaven or not, she reached over to the t-shirt lying on the bedroom floor, and unfolded it. It wouldn't cover as much as she would like, but it would cover the important things and that was what was important. Carefully, hesitantly, she slipped out of the one-piece Shadowloo uniform. Juli grunted in pain occasionally as the jumpsuit made contact with a particularly sore or bruised area, but within several minutes she had succeeded in getting the uniform off and getting into the t-shirt, which was slightly tight on her and only reached up only to mid-thigh. She kept on her panties under the shirt - whomever had taken care of her obviously didn't have a Victoria's Secret next door, but she couldn't complain.   
  
As she sat on the bed, she neatly folded her battered and torn Shadowloo uniform, and placed it on top of her boots and gauntlets. She stared at the pile of clothing that was her uniform for a little while, deep in thought. It was what she wore everyday of her service to Shadowloo. That pile of clothing represented her entire life up until a short time ago, everything she lived for, cared for, and was willing to die for. Now she saw that this corporation which she saw as being her only home wasn't really as clean and righteous as she thought it to be. It was odd; why hadn't she seen it before? Why hadn't she seen that she was murdering innocent people? Yet another effect of Bison's demonic Psycho power...  
  
Once again, Juli shook her head to clear her thoughts. She looked around, looking for a brace or some kind of stick she could use to support her when she tried to get up and walk. To her surprise underneath the bed she found a simple wooden crutch, made of two long, sturdy branches of wood, one to to support her and one vertical stick to go under her armpit to brace herself against. It was simple, yes, but upon trying it and taking some careful steps around the room with it, she found it more than adequate.   
  
As she walked, or rather, stumbled towards the door leading out of the room, she found herself thinking of her rescuer, whomever he or she was. She surely would have died if she had been left outside in the rain after Bison drained her of his power. And who would want to rescue her, a professional Shadowloo assassin? Her reputation inspired fear in the hearts of men, but what man would have the guts enough to overcome this and clean her up and tend to her wounds, and thereby save her life? So many questions...  
  
As she reached the door and opened it, Juli found herself in another small room that she assumed was the living room and kitchen. A small t.v. sat on a stand next to a radio. To the opposite of that was a simple couch, for one or two people. Closer to her she found a simple wooden table with two chairs, and a portable propane-powered stove and a small, battery operated refridgerator. On the stove was a pot of something boiling; what it was, she couldn't tell at the moment, but she knew it smelled good.  
  
She wondered where she was and who lived here. Who would want to live in the wilderness of Japan, alone, and without anyone to talk to? At least she wasn't dealing with a total hermit, as the t.v. and fairly modern appliances atested to. She needed to know who her rescuer was...  
  
She stumbled towards the door, intending to look outside and see if the owner of the house was outside. She had almost reached the door when the door swung open, revealing the form of a young man with a towel around his neck, dressed in a simple karate gi. He was very well built and muscular, and possessed a boyish, cute, yet handsome face. Reddish-brown hair adorned the top of his head, around which a simple white headband was tied.  
  
  
Ryu Hoshi was her rescuer, she realised.  
  
  
"Hi there," he spoke, a smile beginning to appear on his face, as if Juli were some friend he had seen many times before and was very comfortable with, instead of a Shadowloo assassin.  
  
"H..hello," Juli replied, hesitantly, her voice flat and emotionless, as if her mind was trying to come up with an emotion to accompany the words but it had failed in doing so.  
  
"Well don't get too excited," he said, the tone of humor prevalent in his voice as he said with a smile, "we can skip the formal introductions: you're Juli, commander of the Shadowloo dolls, right? I'm the man you tried to kill three days ago, remember?"  
  
"Three... days?"  
  
"Yup. You were out cold. I found you in the same place that we fought in while taking a jog. Whew, you were beat up good. You could have died there."  
  
"So you... you... saved me, warrior?"  
  
"Heh heh. 'Saved' is such an overpowering word. More like carried you up here, and cleaned you up and bandaged you, preventing you from dying." He gave her a crooked smile, then moved past her into his home.  
  
"Welcome to my humble abode, by the way," he said, as he walked over to the refridgerator and opened it, taking out a water bottle and taking a sip, "Stay as long as you want, and when you're fully recovered you can go back over to your buddy Lord Bison and we can make like this never happened."  
  
At the word 'Bison' Juli cringed; she leaned on her makeshift crutch a little more. Upon seeing that Juli wasn't in the mood to talk about Bison, Ryu decided to change the subject.  
  
"Sorry about the crutch," he began, "it's not my best work. And that shirt's the smallest one I had. It's not what you're used to, but oh well."  
  
"Why... why did you help me, warrior? I tried to kill you..."  
  
"No one deserves to be left outside in the rain to die," Ryu said quickly, without thinking first of what to say, as if he knew in advance Juli would ask him the question. He took sips of his water bottle and looked outside his window at the surrounding Japanese countryside. "No one deserves to die alone, Shadowloo assassin or not. You may have tried to kill me, but only because you were ordered to. You did what good soldiers are supposed to do."  
  
"Aren't you afraid th-... that I'll try to kill you? Or that once I... leave I'll tell Bison where you are?"  
  
"No," Ryu said, looking straight at the battered Shadowloo assassin, "because in that condition, you couldn't kill a rat. And besides," he said with a thoughtful look, "I prefer to believe in people."  
  
Juli took a moment to consider this. How honorable of a man to help his enemy, even one who had tried their level best to kill him several days before. It took an honorable man to put his faith in a stranger, let alone a stranger that worked for most notorious drug and weapons cartel in the world... gullible, maybe, but still honorable.  
  
"How... can I repay you, warrior?" Juli began, slowly.  
  
"Your gratitude is thanks enough. Or, you can give me a rematch."  
  
"A rematch? But... but you won our first duel, warrior."  
  
"Oh I know. But you've been my greatest challenge yet and I don't mind facing you again. But for now, you must be hungry. I'm no Emeril Lagasse, but I make a mean chicken corn soup."  
  
Juli almost smiled at this. It was strange to her, this new emotion. She didn't quite know what it was, but when she was with Shadowloo her emotion indicators called it 'humor' or 'sarcasm.' Now was the first time she actually felt it.. this.. humor. It was weird, she didn't know how to react to it. Never before had she laughed out loud due to humor, and now she felt a smile come close to appearing on her lips, but she didn't quite know why. Maybe it was an effect of this... humor.  
  
Ryu motioned for her to sit down with him, and she stumbled over to the table and sat. The warrior took two bowls and two spoons out of the cupboard the stove sat on, and poured out two bowls of the steaming soup. He passed one over to Juli, and sat down himself to eat.  
  
***  
  
They ate in silence, and when Juli had finished taking the last couple of spoonfuls of the admittedly delicious corn soup, she looked up at Ryu to find that he had already finished, and had placed his bowl in a small basin that he would take down to a nearby river to wash later on. Seeing that she had finished as well, he began to move towards her and take the bowl.  
  
"So, how was it? The soup?"  
  
"It... it was.... it- ahhh!"  
  
Suddenly, intense pain clutched at Juli's heart, and the bowl and spoon fell to the floor with a crash, shattering the ceramic into a million pieces. It didn't approach the intensity of pain that Bison inflicted on her several days ago, but it was still a deep, stinging pain, as if some creature had wormed it's way into her body and was tearing her apart from within. It must have been her body adjusting to the absence of the psycho power, like going through withdrawals from a drug, she realised through the pain. She clutched at her chest, but didn't cry in pain; she gritted her teeth, for she couldn't cry in pain and thus show weakness to the warrior...  
  
Seeing this, Ryu rushed over to her and put an arm around her shoulder.  
  
"What's wrong!?"  
  
Juli tried to control the pain, and as quickly as it came to her, it left. She breathed heavily, trying to regain her breath. Sweat had begun to fall down her brow, and she clutched at her chest with one hand, the other curled tightly in a fist on the table. A tear of pain welled up in her eye, but she willed it away. She couldn't show weakness in front of the warrior...  
  
"Nothing..." she said softly, "nothing that concerns you, warrior."  
  
"Well whatever it is, maybe you should get some rest."  
  
He put her arm over his shoulder, intending to assist her to the bedroom-   
  
-when she ripped her arm away from him.   
  
"I have no need for you assistance, warrior. I am not a child."  
  
Ryu seemed hurt by this. He watched helplessly as Juli picked up her crutch, and slowly, carefully stumbled back towards the bedroom door. Her face was contorted in pain as if every step shot pain into her body. She pushed open the door, and was but several steps into the room when suddenly the pain returned. She fell to the floor, giving a small cry of pain, her body writhing in pain. The tears she held back were now falling down her cheeks; she clenched her fists in attempts to take away the pain, and she did so until her nails drew blood from the palms of her hands.  
  
Ryu, who had seen this, ran over to assist the fallen assassin. He knelt down next to her and took her in his arms, then slowly rose up with her and placed her on the bed. Still her face was twisted in pain, her tears falling down those vanilla cheeks. Ryu took a small towel from a nearby drawer, knelt next to her, and used it to wipe the tears away, as well as the sweat that fell vigorously down her brow. She grunted and moaned as if in deep pain, her fists clenching fistfuls of the bedsheets in an effort to alleviate the pain. Ryu felt helpless; he could crush rocks with his bare hands, defeat walking mountains of muscle in street fights, but couldn't take away the pain this woman before him felt.   
  
He brought the back of his right hand to her forehead and found that she was hot; she was on the verge of having a high fever. He began to rise to get some cold water from the kitchen-  
  
-when Juli's hand darted up and caught his forearm, clutching it. He looked down at her face to see that she was staring back at him through pain-filled eyes. Here eyes seemed soft and forgiving now, as if she were pleading for something. At this, Ryu returned to his kneeling position next to her. Juli clutched his hand now, her eyes still locked with his.  
  
"Don't... don't leave me, warrior," she said, her eyes twisted in pain but still possessing a child-like innocence that Ryu could not resist. He knelt next to her and clasped her hand in both of his. She gave his hand a small squeeze.  
  
"I won't, Juli. I'm here."  
  
Juli kept her eyes on him, until finally the welcome embrace of unconsiousness swallowed her up again. Just before her eyes closed and the visage of Ryu left her, she realised that that was the first time anyone had said her first name with some tone other than an order's.  
  
***  
  
Ryu watched her sleep for some time, as he dabbed the wet towel on her forehead occasionally. He watched as she breathed in and out softly, the peaceful look of her face betraying the fierce pain that she was probably going through. He stroked her hair back, like a mother stroking the hair of a newborn baby as it slept.   
  
For some strange reason, he felt attracted to her; not only physically, for any man can be attracted to this woman physically, he thought. Everything about her called out to him. Her voice was sweet and calm; like some singer, full of authority, yes, but also comforting and soft when need be. Maybe it was her body, her long, lithe legs that the shirt failed to cover; deadly in battle but still feminine and attractive. But it wasn't that... what entranced him most was her eyes. Filled with emotions that he couldn't name, large and deep brown, seductive yet innocent, deadly yet soft.  
  
But above that he felt some kind of kinship with her; both of them had no real home, no real family. All they had was their profession; Ryu was a street fighter, Juli an assassin. It was their life, their only driving force. They concentrated on nothing more. With Ryu it was his street fighting skills, with Juli, her service to Bison and Shadowloo. Everything else, every other emotion was swept aside to concentrate on this one thing. With Ryu he voluntarily shunned these emotions in favor of devoting his life to his fighting skills; with Juli they were taken from her without her consent.  
  
For some strange reason, he wanted to care for her, to make sure she got back on her feet. He didn't quite know why, for he had never felt this way about any one before, much less any woman. For a long time he thought maybe he wanted something other than friendship from Chun-Li, the Interpol agent, but things never went past becoming good friends. After his last encounter with Chun-Li in the third Alpha tournament, he swore to defeat Bison for her. Once he had left her he cleared all thoughts of her from his mind, and concentrated on his fighting skills, readying himself for the next challenger. That was how it always was with Ryu and love. Love was always pushed aside in favor of strengthening his fighting skills.   
  
So as he stroked her hair and dabbed her forehead with the towel, he didn't know why he was doing so. He expected himself to reject her at any moment, to throw all the thoughts of her out of his mind, but for some reason that moment never came, and he was almost happy it didn't.  
  
***  
  
So warm, so very warm.  
  
Juli turned around in the bed, savoring the warmth and comfort the simple bed and blanket gave her. She opened her eyes a crack, to find that the warrior had fallen asleep, his head lying on his arms, still sitting down on a small stool next to the bed in which she lay. In his hands was a small wet towel which she assumed he used to dab her forehead with. He had a peaceful look on his face.  
  
She regarded him for a second more, then shook him softly with her hand, intending to wake him up. After a couple of tries, she succeeded, and Ryu Hoshi awoke groggily from his sleep.   
  
"I... I'm sorry, didn't know I had fallen asleep... You... you had a fever..."  
  
Juli looked back at him as he wiped the sleepiness from his eyes.  
  
"I can take care of myself now. My body heals faster than normal people's. Genetically engineered to be that way. You can leave now, warrior."  
  
Ryu made eye contact with her, and kept her gaze a second longer. After a moment's consideration, he rose and began to walk out of the room. He would have to spend the night in the living room couch, but he didn't quite mind. Upon reaching the door, he turned to look upon the assassin once more. She had turned and was on her side, her back facing him. With a soft voice, he said:  
  
"Sleep well, Juli."  
  
Juli stirred somewhat in her sleep; Ryu assumed she didn't hear him. He turned away, ready to close the bedroom door, when he heard her say softly, almost barely loud enough to hear:  
  
  
"And you as well...... Ryu."  
  
  
Ryu smiled and closed the door. He went to sleep on the couch with the smile still on his face; it was the first time Juli had called him by his first name.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Note:  
  
well there it is, the second chapter. I know it's been a looooong time coming, but you guys should know by now that I take a long time between chapters. Anyways, we saw a little more development in both characters this chapter... I really tried to capture Juli's angst at Bison disowning her, and I'm not sure if I did it correctly... I think I overdid it somewhat. Oh well, review and tell me what you think.  
  
Stay tuned, same Fan-Story, same Fan-Site, same Fan-Author...  
  
Quote of the Day:  
  
What profit is it to the man who gains   
the world, but loses his soul?  
-Matthew 16:26  
  
~hustler one 


End file.
